Point of View: The Weight of Worlds

The weight of the world is on my shoulders.

Well, technically, three worlds.

I’m currently writing three different novels, complete with three different universes of people. And sometimes it weighs on me as a writer to have to be the only person who knows about this world. To be responsible for everything: The people, the society, the religion, the economy, even the fricking plumbing.

And as writers, we have to keep it all straight in our head somehow. And yeah, I have a story Bible for each of these worlds, but even that is a daunting task – maintaining it, putting it all in some kind of semblance of order so I can find things again. It’s a lot. 

I was thinking about this because, when I read other books or watch movies and TV shows, the continuity often seems effortless. It’s as if they are actual worlds that people just write down on paper, not fantasy places that required someone like me to expend considerable brain power to invent and then maintain.

Because you do have to maintain them. Readers tend to be unforgiving if your character changes his hair color multiple times during a book without having ever visited the salon. Or if they suddenly change names, or important details about their lives shift like a mirage. Each world you create has to feel corporeal, complete, and consistent.

And part of the problem is that I’m not writing it in real time, or all at once. I’m writing it bits and pieces, drips and drabs. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night. Sometimes in your house, sometimes at Starbucks, and sometimes sitting under a tree (which I don’t recommend because spiders!).

I’m writing for five days in a row, and then not writing for two weeks because something came up in my life that blew up my writing schedule. It’s like I am glimpsing these worlds in staccato pulses, flashes under the flickering light of a disco ball, and I’m madly scribbling all these disconnected pieces down and trying to get it all to make sense. 

You feel sorry for me? Don’t. I chose this life, this profession, and ultimately it makes me happy to create these beautiful worlds. being a writer is the thing I was put on this Earth to do, and I’m pretty good at it.

But sometimes, when I’m writing at 11 o’clock at night and my eyes are drooping and my brain is growling at me for keeping it at work, it’s hard to remember the joy that I’m supposed to be feeling doing it. And it’s hard to recall that thing that happened back on page 64, three months and five life crises ago.

So I consult my story Bible, go back and reread a few sections to remind myself of what happened before, and thank the light side that I have beta readers and proofreaders and editors will help me make sure that the final world that you read is seamless and beautiful.

And then I start all over and do it again.

Because I am insane. Because I am a writer.